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Saturday, August 8, 2015

Outcast & Double Feature

I was trapped in a room with this dog while trying to take my pics.
It was very hard. Each time I wanted to take a photo, she wanted suddenly to jump on me.

I didn't realize, and maybe it's just these pictures, but the red lipstick seems to make my lips look fuller. 

This is the first outfit I've loved in a while. I loved the spikes coupled with the cardigan and button up collar, the chains and spikes and fishnet thrown off by the knit beanie and hair flower, the goth vibe versus the vintage creepers. Plus, I think my legs looked great in these pics.

My mom mentioned the other day that she really doesn't think the way I dress is appropriate. I felt a sense of appreciation, because I've been dressing like this for years and years (when I was younger, my style was all punk, no hipster or vintage to be detected) and while she occasionally tells me my dressing habits will "come back to bite me"--occasionally being once a year, probably--I didn't know how strongly she felt. I think it's cool she's never tried to stop me, recognizing my style as a "phase", or else that there's no way to keep me from looking like a rockstar if that's truly my proclivity. I'd have had a hell of a time in a typical orthodox Christian household. 

When I was younger, I'd get scared whenever she warned me not to dress this way. But as I've gotten older, I pinpointed some truths. First, my mom is from a very conservative generation, where anyone who dressed the way I do--and many of my generation of peers do--were prostitutes and rock stars. I recognize that times have changed 360 degrees, and the world we live in is not the world she grew up in. There is a revolution underway, a siege transforming unspoken laws of propriety and challenging that which is socially acceptable. Whereas I'd be an outcast in her world, in mine, I'm just a little eccentric. Besides, as it's becoming more acceptable to have piercings, tattoos, crazy colored hair and all that jazz, my periodic indulgence in fishnets and spiked chokers is nothing to be alarmed about, nothing of significant consequence. Also, my indulgence is periodic. My style of dress has altered with maturity over the years, and I dress punk less and less often. This is one of my more extreme outfits, I think, and this isn't that far out. And then, I know I'm going to grow out of it. I suspect by the time I'm in my mid twenties, I'll have digressed to band tees and ripped jeans, and in my thirties, I'll just look like an old lady in my collared shirts and high waisted pants. By the point in my career and life when dressing the way I do is truly inappropriate, I probably won't even want to dress like this. 
I'll excel at old-lady dressing once I'm old. I've already got a head start now.
And lastly, I'm not stupidly stubborn about my style, like many of my comrades. I do not follow the same scene either. I mean to say, I'm well aware of when it's okay to dress like this, and I'm not destroying my body with extensive tattoos and face metal. I don't try to dress crazy when I go for job interviews or whatnot--I keep a healthy declivity between my crazy fashion and my professional life so neither encroaches on the other. People who look like me are confrontational and often dress like this despite it being a bad time to do so, because they want someone to object. They want to fight. They want a reason to be upset and throw a fit about prejudice and fascist ideals.
And anyway, I don't act the way I dress. I'm not wild or promiscuous, I'm not into drugs, I'm nothing like the people who dress this way. Hell, I'm 100% virgin and never smoked a blunt or sipped a domestic alcoholic beverage in my life. 
I've found that, around people who like my style, I dress the most extreme of them all yet I'm a prude and overtly pious beside them. I do not associate with people who look like me, because they're cynical losers with no prospects. They create their own problems, they have no talent or especial intelligence, and revel in wallowing in their own lack. They say fuck the world, stick it to the man, and usually end up with half a dozen kids, a criminal record and an empty life. 
They're angry, narrow-minded people and I don't like them. 
They always freaking love me. I don't understand it. 
Chalk it up to sanctimonious self-righteousness. It's probably true. 
I'm not trying to generalize, for I know  there are exceptions, but that is my experience. I have never fit in among rockers and emos. I'm distinctly uncomfortable in their presence, because I'm anti-social, conservative, and pragmatic. Doesn't look this way in my pictures, but looks are deceiving. 

Now, it's true I've got a mild criminal record, and it's also true that I have a problem with following the rules. I'm not denying it. But I also know that being arrested at 16 was a good thing because it gave me a taste of consequences without ruining my life. Now that I'm a legal adult, there's no way in hell I'll ever be caught dead violating the law. I don't speed, I don't drink underage, I don't do nothin', because I have a career ahead of me that I've been dreaming of since I was 12, and I'm not about to jeopardize it. I broke the rules while I was a minor because usually I just didn't care, not because I was being belligerent. And I knew I could get away with it. I mean, after you get put in cuffs (among other various unsettling experiences), you don't bat an eyelash at the mention of detention or any retribution school authority can dredge up. Honestly, there's nothing they can do to me that I've not already done to myself. My wrists are morbid proof of that.
Aaaaaaaand it's also true that I was an honor roll student, in JROTC and key club, and they were constantly trying to recruit me for AP everything. All things considered, I don't fit in with my fellow punks.
Class dismissed.


Ed, Edd, n Eddy

Don't worry, your identity is safe with us.

Here's a guy named James Costa, who does Robin Williams celebrity impressions.

I wanted to post two songs, since this outfit has a punk look with an indie flare, with the cardigan, high knee socks, the pins on my cardigan and whatnot.
One song is Run With Wolves, by Prodigy. This song is BAMF AF. So great to jog to.

This other one is very different. It’s by Edward Sharp & The Magnetic Zeroes, “Janglin’.” 

Be Brave!

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